A Weakness Worth Having
by storybookpen
Summary: Goes AU midway through Anslo Garrick Part 2. What if Liz had not escaped? This fic has Liz!whump. Rated for canon levels of torture. Pre-Red/Lizzy


Disclaimer: I don't own _The Blacklist_.

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Red Reddington had never been particularly afraid of torture. Death frightened him. Poisonous snakes frightened him. The thought of a lifetime without Elizabeth Keen frightened him. But torture? Torture was just a blip, the tool of a desperate man who didn't realize that manipulation and other, subtler, techniques were so much more effective.

So Red was not particularly concerned when Anslo strung him up. He didn't flinch at Anslo's overly dramatic threats. When Anslo's fists began pummeling Red's body, he retreated into a special place in his mind—a villa near Cinque Terre, Italy, just on the coast of the most beautiful seascape he had ever seen. In that special place, he savored an exquisite bottle of wine, admired a photograph of someone very dear to him, and did not wince at the soreness in his ribs.

Then, as if from a great distance, he heard Anslo say, "I figured you'd be a hard nut to crack. Good thing I have a backup plan, eh? You came out of the box for this one. I wonder whether you'll break for her, too?"

Red's eyes flew open and he watched as Lizzy was dragged across the floor toward him, writhing and kicking, her eyes spitting venom. "You monsters!" she shouted, catching sight of Red's sorry state. "Let him down from there. How dare you hurt him!"

Anslo chuckled. "She really has a thing for you, doesn't she, Red? And a married woman, at that." He turned to Lizzy and made an extravagant bow. "I'm sorry Red's situation bothers you. We'll lower him at once." A curt nod to one of his henchman and Red crashed to the floor, jarring his aching ribs.

Immediately two of Anslo's men seized Red by the arms and hauled him into a chair, tying his hands to the arms, as the ones manhandling Lizzy strung her up in Red's place. Where Red's feet had barely touched the floor, however, Lizzy hung a good three inches above it. For all her fierceness, she couldn't hold back a whimper at the painful strain on her arms.

"Anslo," Red said, his voice tight. "Think about it before you do anything you'll regret. You don't want to hurt her."

"You're right," Anslo said. "I couldn't care less about some FBI agent, attractive as she may be. You're the one I want to hurt. Unfortunately for Agent Keen here, it's becoming increasingly clear to me that the way to hurt you…is by hurting her."

Anslo's fist lashed out, smashing into Lizzy's face. Red's fists clenched as he fought to keep his expression impassive. To show any emotion would only serve to egg Anslo on.

"Agent Keen is that rare FBI agent who shows glimmers of competence," Red said, his voice bored. "If you think I have any attachment to her beyond some admiration, you're even crazier than I thought."

Anslo's face curved in a ghastly smile. "And yet you came out of the box for her." This time his fist buried itself in Lizzy's ribs.

She cried out. The sight of her in pain was like a knife in Red's gut. "What is it you actually want from me, Anslo?" he said. "Information? Or just to tug at my nonexistent heart strings?"

"My employer is the one with questions," Anslo said, hitting Lizzy again. In the secret room in Red's mind, his wine glass shattered. "I'm just softening you up until he arrives."

Another strike to Lizzy's face; she turned her head to the side and spat blood. Then she looked at Red and smiled, her teeth streaked crimson. "Don't worry, Red," she said. "He hits like a girl."

Anslo's expression darkened with fury. "Oh, little girl, I am just getting started," he vowed.

The beating he delivered then was efficient, brutal, and fatal. Fatal for Anslo, that was. Red could not say for sure how the day would go, but he was absolutely certain Anslo would be dead by the end of it.

Eventually Anslo got tired of using his fists and switched to a drug that made Lizzy twitch and moan, her eyes glazed and unseeing.

"Who is she to you?" Anslo said, genuinely curious now as he watched Red watch Lizzy.

Red had to unclench his jaw before he could speak. "She's my partner at the FBI."

Anslo gestured for his psychotic doctor to give Lizzy another injection. "Wrong answer. You forget that I've seen how you treat your partners, Red." He ran his finger down the long scar on his face. "This girl is something else."

Lizzy cried out as her body began to twitch violently.

"How about you, Agent Keen?" Anslo sneered, his face close to hers. "Don't you want to tell me whatever your dirty little secret is? Tell me what I want to know and maybe I'll switch my attentions back to Red."

"Go to hell," she panted, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, I've been there." Anslo's voice dropped to a whisper. "Why don't I give you a taste of what it feels like?"

He drew back his fist but before he could land another blow one of his men said, "We have company."

Anslo relaxed, his hand falling to his side. "Saved by the bell. Be good, children. I'll be right back."

He stalked out and his men went with him, leaving Lizzy and Red alone for the first time since this terrible day began.

"I'm so sorry, Lizzy," Red said, fighting against the ties binding his hands to the chair. Clearly Anslo had remembered—and had warned his men—that Red was capable of dislocating his thumbs to free his hands, so they had taken pains to tie his hands separately. Given an hour or so he might be able to work himself free, but he knew Anslo wouldn't give them that much time.

She swung her head slowly from side to side. Blood dripped from a cut above her eyebrow. Her body was wracked with shudders. He wished he could gather her up in his arms. "Better me than you," she muttered.

He couldn't help his tender smile in response. "While I appreciate the sentiment, my dear, that is simply not true."

For a moment they were silent as he continued to struggle against his bonds.

"Red," Lizzy said, her voice hoarse.

"Yes?"

"Anslo's questions. You know I wonder the same thing."

"I know, Lizzy."

"Maybe we're going to die in the next few minutes. If that happens, I'd like to know one thing first."

Red knew what was coming. "Ask your question."

She drew in a deep breath, winced as the motion aggravated her ribs. "Are you my father?"

Even having anticipated the question, it was difficult for him to respond. How much easier it would have been for them both if he could have said, simply, "Yes." It would have been easier if his love for her was fatherly, if he could use being her father as a way to explain away how protective of her he was. Seconds passed and it was only the thought that he was increasing Lizzy's agony that gave him the impetus to say, "No."

Red knew Elizabeth Keen very well. Far better than she realized. Yet, watching her in that moment, he could not tell what she was thinking.

After a pause almost as long as his, she said, "I'm glad."

Two men, flanked by henchmen, entered then: Anslo and a man Red had not seen in twenty years. Anslo, the smug son of a bitch, looked supremely self-satisfied. The other man was impassive—until he saw Lizzy hanging from the ceiling, looking as if she'd been hit by a freight train.

"Elizabeth Keen," Fitch breathed.

Well, that answered a few questions Red had.

Fitch seized Anslo by the arm. "You did this to Elizabeth Keen?"

Anslo blinked. "She's an FBI agent. I was using her to loosen Red up."

Fitch hurried across the room to grasp Lizzy's chin, tilting her head up to examine her features. She weakly tried to pull away. "What did you give her?" he demanded.

"A simple drug," Anslo stammered, confused. "It will be out of her system by the end of the day if we don't kill her."

Fitch nodded. Then he reached into his jacket, pulled out a gun, and shot Anslo between the eyes.

Red watched Anslo fall and felt a hot rush of satisfaction. "I told you you'd regret it," he told the body.

"Take her down," Fitch told his minions. "_Carefully_," he snapped when one of the men jostled Lizzy, making her moan.

Gently, they lowered her to the floor. She curled up on her side, cradling her ribs, and watched Red with dark, liquid eyes.

_Say the word and I'll try my damnedest to spring into action_, those eyes said.

He gave a tiny shake of his head. He thought he understood what this was, now, and he was confident that he and Lizzy—or at least Lizzy—would get out of this alive.

Fitch paced back and forth in front of Red. "Well," he said at last, coming to a stop, glaring at Red as if this were all his fault. "This is a fine situation."

"Fitch," Red said, inclining his head ever so slightly. "How long's it been? Twenty years?"

"I suppose you know why we took you," Fitch said, running his hand through his hair. Every few seconds his eyes darted to Lizzy and he turned a little paler.

"No doubt it was to show me you have power over me," Red said, allowing a little of his fury to come through in his voice. "To punish me for my little side project with the FBI."

Fitch coughed. "Yes. We've had a good working relationship all these years, Red, and we know what you have and what will happen to it if something happens to you. We just wanted to remind you you're not untouchable."

Red nodded. "And now?"

"And now what?" Fitch bluffed. Too bad for him Red held all the cards.

"And now that you're going to have to go back to your superiors and report that your rabid bulldog drastically overstepped his bounds? Now that your little play has failed miserably?"

Fitch sighed. "Now I remind you not to betray us. I remind you that we're watching you. And I ask if you two need a lift to the hospital." He jerked his head at one of his men, who quickly stepped forward and sliced through the ties holding Red to the chair.

Red instantly went to his knees beside Lizzy, pulling her into his arms. "Rest, Lizzy," he whispered, stroking her hair. "The danger has passed."

It seemed all she needed was that reassurance to sever the last bit of stubborn will that had been preventing her from losing consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered shut. Red glared at Fitch. "We'll handle it from here. I would appreciate it if you would return my phone, however."

"It's gone," Fitch said. "Take mine." He tossed it to Red, who caught it one-handed. Fitch looked at Lizzy again, with the same reverent gaze he might turn to the Mona Lisa. "Take care of her."

"_Obviously_," Red hissed, holding her a little tighter.

Fitch seemed taken aback. Then, despite everything, a slow smile slid across his face. "It's like that, is it? Interesting."

"I believe we were at the 'goodbye' portion of this conversation," Red told him.

Fitch's knowing smile didn't change. "Goodbye for now." He walked out, taking his men with him.

Of course, there were no contacts on Fitch's phone and the call history was blocked. Red called the Elysium Hotel and asked for Mr. Kaplan. Kaplan arrived with Dembe in tow less than twenty minutes later, emergency medical bag in hand.

"Which one of you do I look at first?" she barked. Red had always admired her brisk efficiency.

"Lizzy," he said.

Kaplan assessed Lizzy, giving her a shot for the pain, then looked Red over as well. Him, she gave an Advil.

"Well, you're both going to live," she said. "Impossible to tell whether your ribs are cracked or just bruised. Hers are definitely broken. I've seen drugs like the one she's under before and it's not pretty, but the effects aren't fatal. We should get you two to a hospital."

"We'll take Lizzy to the hospital, but I need to go to a safe house," Red said. "Someone at the FBI betrayed me. I've got to find out who before I can go back."

"Like hell," Lizzy mumbled. Red hadn't realized she was awake.

"Lizzy," he murmured, stroking her hair again. "How are you feeling?"

She groaned. "Terrible. Don't change the subject. If you're going into hiding, I'm going with you."

"If this is because you don't trust me to come back—"

"Of course I trust you." Her face was deathly pale but her eyes burned with conviction. "That's not the point. I know you think you know everything, but if someone's dirty at the FBI you're going to need my help to find them. And Red…I don't want to be separated from you. Not right now."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Dembe," he said, injecting lightness into his voice, "bring the car around, won't you? We'll be going to the safe house in Baltimore." He stood, lifting Lizzy carefully, and if it wasn't quite as easy as it would normally be, she was still not much heavier than a feather in his arms.

"I can walk," she mumbled.

"I'm sure you can, Sweetheart, but let me feel manly and strong just now, won't you?"

Of course the car was already at the door when they got outside. Dembe opened the door for him. Red placed his precious cargo on the back seat before walking around to the other side and sliding in beside her. She slumped against him, her head on his shoulder. He rested his own head on top of hers.

"Red," she said, her voice thick with fatigue.

"Yes, Lizzy?"

"Even with everything that's happened, I'm glad to have you in my life."

He smiled against her hair. "The feeling is mutual."

She sagged as she slipped into sleep again. For a while he struggled to stay awake, reveling in the feel of her resting against him. _She chose to come with me_. The thought was heady. Eventually, though, the smooth motion of the car and the knowledge that they were safe led him to follow her into the realm of dreams.


End file.
